Nate and Isabel
by Quazie89
Summary: Nate comforts Auggie after he wakes up from a bad dream in the middle of the night.


Hello, everybody! I really love Wonder. It's one of my favorite books and movies, and I noticed that there weren't many fics about Isabel and Nate on here, so I wanted to do one, because I think they are such are a wonderful couple, but I thought their relationship could've been explored a little bit more in the book, though I can understand why Palacio didn't (I think she gives her reason somewhere on her site, if you want to go check it out). I hope you enjoy the story, though! A little bit of a spoiler for it: I actually thought about continuing this story with a sequel, in which Nate actually does have the heart attack, but it will take place several years after the book and movie (this one takes place during, a little bit after Daisy died). I thought I'd wait and see what you guys what you thought about that idea and this story before I went through with it.

Isabel

I was lying awake on the couch, late at night, something I had been doing a lot of lately, it seemed, ever since Auggie had started going to school, when I heard Nate come in.

I heard the door shut first, then the sound of his shuffling footsteps as he dragged himself into the living room.

I wanted to get up, wrap her arms around him, and shower him with kisses.

I had to stop myself for a moment. I knew he would be tired. He always was when he came home from work, especially on his late nights. Some nights he would be so exhausted, he would head straight to bed without speaking a word to me, and I wouldn't get to talk to him at all. Some days it was almost as if he never existed, and Auggie and Via didn't have a father, or me a husband. I was surprised when I heard his footsteps in the living room, approaching me.

The light came on, and I jumped up, swerving around.

I saw Nate Pullman standing in the doorway, no swaying, more like it, leaning against it for support. He had his arms folded his arms across his chest, and his mouth curved up into a faint, tired smile. "What are you doing up so late, beautiful?"

"I might ask you the same thing," I said, and shook my head, but smiled. "You look like something the cat dragged in." With a groan, I stood up, walking over to him. "How was your day at work, dear?" I threw my arms over his shoulders, planted a quick, yet heartfelt kiss on his mouth, and squeezed one of his hands in mine. I pulled back to study his face, and frowned, feeling my forehead crease with worry. There were deep circles under his eyes, and news lines on his face I couldn't remember ever being there before, a couple of deep crevices bracketing his mouth and pulling it down. His fair, shoulder-length hair was disheveled, sticking out every which way. By the feel of his waist, when I gripped it with my hand, he had also lost some weight, and he hadn't been a very big man to begin with. He was working himself to death, wasting away before my eyes, and there seemed to be nothing she could do about it.

Resting his chin on the top of my head, Nate started rubbing my back. "I'm not going to lie to you, beautiful, it was rough," he said, closing his eyes.

"Want to come and tell me all about it?" I asked, tugging at his arm.

"I don't think you would want to hear it," Nate said, sighing. "I would just bore you to death."

I led him over to the couch, eased him down on the sofa, and he collapsed onto the cushions with a pained grunt. Kicking his shoes off, he stretched his long legs out, letting his feet dangle over the end of the coach.

Once Nate had made himself comfortable, I sat down in between his legs, and rested my head on his chest. "You'd be surprised by what I'm able to put up with," I said, running her hand down his stomach.

"How's Auggie?" Nate asked, burying his face in her hair.

I knew Auggie would be brought up. "He's doing okay, under the circumstances," I said.

Nate took a deep breath. "I think he handled it better than I did, to tell you the truth," he said, his voice shaky. "I loved that dog."

I flinched. Our dog, Daisy, had died a couple of days ago. Nate had been the one who had brought her home, and he had taken her death hard, harder than Auggie had. Sure, Auggie had been upset, and had cried for awhile afterwards, but I thought Nate was right about him taking it harder than Auggie. Being the strong, tough kid he was, Auggie had quickly moved on, more absorbed in spending extra time with his newfound friends at school and the activities they loved to indulge themselves in, perfectly normal things for any kid Auggie's age to be doing, in other words, and I was glad he was. I knew he still missed Daisy, but I didn't want to see him spend his entire life grieving over a dog. Nate, a grown man, on the other hand, appeared to still be in mourning, while his son, a boy at least four decades his junior, had already gotten over it. I wasn't about to tell Nate that, knowing how men liked to keep their dignity. "I know, honey," I said, rubbing his arm up and down. "I loved her, too, but we're just going to have to face the fact she's not with us anymore and move on. It's hard, I know, but it's just one many unhappy facts of life we just have to accept and move on."

Nate sighed. "I know…I know…I just wish things were different," he said, and took hold of her hand, kissing it.

I closed my eyes. "Maybe we shouldn't talk about it so much," I said. "Maybe it would be best if we didn't t talk anymore at all, and just fell asleep."

I knew I wouldn't have to tell Nate that twice. "Yeah, I think that's a great idea, sweetheart," he said, and not long afterwards I was fast asleep in his arms.

Nate

I stared down at my wife, watching her sleep. She looked so peaceful, lying there in my lap, but I knew she was anything but. She had her hands full, watching Auggie and Via all the time, taking them back and forth to school every day. I know I like to waste a lot of time feeling sorry for myself, having to work every day for little to no pay, but, to tell you the truth, I don't know what hard work really is. Out of the two of us, Isabel is the most hardheaded and stubborn, but in a good way. When Auggie was going through all of his surgeries, she was always there by his side, watching over him, while I stayed at work and almost pulled all of my hair out fretting over him, wondering if he was going to survive. She is strong and courageous, and I admire her strength and bravery in the face of such staggering odds, and hope one day to be as tough as is she is. Her resilience was one of the reasons why I fell in love with her in the first place.

A feel a slow smile tug at the corners of my downturned mouth. I remember the first time we had met. It had been at an art gallery downtown. They had been hosting an exhibition of her artwork there.

Wait, let's stop a minute. Did I tell you Isabel used to be a children's book illustrator? Well, she was, and she was pretty good, too, but she had to give up her career when Auggie was born to take care of him. Taking care of Auggie is a full time job. I don't think I mentioned that, did I? It is a demanding job, but one that can be very rewarding if you have the willpower and patience to see it through. Still, I loved Auggie, no matter what, and I hope I can be as tough as Isabel in order to help her take of him. I know she's strong, but sometimes I can see the cracks showing through her tough exterior, and I know she is about to break any day now. She tries hard to hide it, and put up a strong front, but I know my wife too well. She was being pushed well beyond even her limits.

Anyway, back at the art exhibit, Isabel had been talking to a couple, explaining a piece to them. After they had left, I had walked toward her, and she had turned around and smiled. I'll never forget the smile on her face. It had been teasing and playful, as well as warm and welcoming, all at the same time. I later learned Isabel was all these things and much more. I didn't know what I would do without Isabel. She is my rock. I knew people think I'm the funny one, but to tell you the truth, I like to make people laugh because, with everything that's happen to Auggie, I don't know how to be happy. I don't think I deserve to be happy, either, not after Isabel has sacrificed so much for the family and I have given up so little by comparison. I don't know what I would do without her. I would be lost.

All of a sudden, I felt an overwhelming surge fear. I didn't know where it came from, but it was there. It might've been there when Daisy died, and I just now bubbling to the surface. I don't know, but I was faced with the horrifying thought of the unthinkable, yet inevitable reality of loosing of Isabel, and it scared me.

A sob escaped me, and I bit my lip, trying to stifle it. If Isabel heard me, she gave no sign, but, for once, I was grateful for her silence, if only for the peace and quiet it gave me in which to think, and be alone with my thoughts. I was a complete wreck.

I extended my arms around her tiny waist, enfolding her thin frame in my arms, and I began to rock her back and forth. She had lost some weight over the past couple of months; too much. I was going to have to put her on a new diet, a stricter regime, and make her eat more. She wasn't going to like it, with the delicate way she ate, but I didn't want to see her waste away to nothing. She was already a bag of bones.

My heart was pounding, my mind racing. I tried to calm myself and control my thoughts, listening upstairs for any movement. I hoped none of the kids came down here. The last thing I needed was for one of them to come in here and see dear old Dad crying. How would I explain that to them? I wouldn't even know where to begin.

"Dad?"

I jumped. I had been so lost in my thoughts, I hadn't heard Auggie come downstairs, but there he was, standing in his pajamas. He yawned, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

"What's wrong, son?" I ask, and patted the edge of the couch, motioning for him to come over to me. "Tell your dear old Dad all about it."

Once he had wiped the grogginess out of his weary eyes, he walked over to me, the quiet, pitter-patter sound of his bare feet hitting the floor barely audible. "I had a bad dream," he said, leaning over the end of the couch.

"What about, son?" I asked, and I picked him up with a heave, sitting him down beside me. My back gave a painful twinge, and I wanted to grope It, but couldn't. There was little room left for me on the couch.

"I had a bad dream," Auggie said, looking up at me. "You were sick…mom was crying a lot…"

I felt the blood drain from my face, and I knew I must've been as white as a sheet. "What was it about, son?" I asked, almost afraid to know the answer.

"There was something wrong with your heart…they put something in it, to make it better."

Too stunned to answer, I could do nothing but stare at Auggie, and blink in surprise. A heart attack, no doubt, and they had put in a peacemaker. The realization surprised me. I had always considered myself a pretty health guy, a bit on the skinny side maybe, but I thought I was in pretty good shape for a fifty year-old man, and a lot of women seemed to think so, too, if the way Isabel's friends fawned all over me whenever they had one of their little get-togethers at the house was any indication, sparking the rare appearance of her jealously. I had always thought, if the big one ever did get me, I didn't think it would be for a few more years, yet, not until I was sixty, at least, and even then I thought it would be a stroke, rather than a heart attack. I had always liked to think I had healthy eating habits, but I a lot of men like to believe that about their selves. In the end, when it all came right down to it, you just never really know. "It was just a dream, Auggie, it wasn't real," I said, taking his hand in my own. "You were just scared, where Daisy had died, and it made you afraid something was going to me-"

Anger twisted Auggie's already contorted but unique face, as he looked down at his sleeping mom, and I could see him struggling not to raise his voice, but I could already tell it was going to be a losing battle. "No it wasn't!" he shouted, losing the war for control over himself. "I was there…you were lying in the hospital bed…mom was crying…"

"Hush, you're mother's trying to sleep." I cradled his head in my hands, rubbing his face against my shirt, which was soon soaked with his tears. "Listen, Auggie," I said, pressing my hand against the side of his face. "You hear my heart beating?"

Auggie's sobs, little by little, grew further and further apart, and his breathing slower. "Yes," he said, his voice low and loft.

I cupped his chin in my hands, tilting his head up to meet his face with mine. "Then it was just a dream," I said, kissing him on the forehead. "Now, go to bed." I gave him a gentle shove on the shoulder, pushing toward the direction of the stairs leading up to his room.

"Yes, Dad," Auggie said, still wanting to fight, but too tired to.

I watched him leave.

Once Auggie's footsteps had faded, and he was long gone, Isabel spoke up from my lap. "You handled that well."

I jumped, gasping for breath, my hand clutching at my chest. "I swear, between you and Auggie scaring me all the time I think I'm going to have a heart attack," I said, still struggling for air.

She smiled that wonderful smile of hers. "You did well," she said, but there was a deep worry in her eyes, an old fear I had seen there before. "Are you okay?"

"I'm just a little tired from work, is all, but I'm all right," I say, and a yawn escapes me, as if to prove my point, even though I think it doesn't need proving.

Isabel stood up, and I tried to stop her but she paid little attention to me. "Please, get some sleep, honey," she said, and stopped, turning to head in the direction Auggie had just gone. "Auggie might've just had a bad dream, but if you keeping on going like this, you're going to run yourself into the ground, and Auggie's dream will come a reality." With those last words, she looked away, and walked back up the stairs to our bedroom.

It was hard to argue with her. I really couldn't. She was right. As usual, I couldn't fault her logic. How much longer could do I go on, running myself ragged, until the big one got me?

Deciding I didn't want to find out, I stood up, my aching joints popping and creaking in protest, and grabbed my back; it was still hurting. I could feel it throbbing with a steady force beating under my hand. Maybe I was getting too old. Maybe I needed to slow down, take a vacation with the wife and kids. We could go camping and fishing. Auggie and Via would like that. I don't think they've ever been camping before. It would be a new experience for them.

Head down, shoulders slumped, I dragged up the stairs my wife had just climbed, following her into our bedroom. Once there, I threw myself on the bed, and didn't even bother to take off my shoes and clothes. I knew then I must've been totally beat, because within seconds I was out like a light.

The End?


End file.
